Midge grins at him, not a bit ashamed. “Our love is so passionate that it cannot by contained by the typical senses. It must be smelled as well. I’m just here to get some water.”
She edges past Geralt and gets two cups to fill with water. Midge happens to get a look at herself in the mirror: her hair is messy and her lipstick is smudged. Not thoroughly fucked yet, but on the way to it.
Geralt sighs. The lack of shame, the sassiness. It's all very familiar.
"You're turning into him," he says. Or maybe she always was and that's why they get along. Who the fuck knows. "I'll be in my fucking grave and still smell his cum." He shakes his head. "Good night."
“Oh, just be happy for him,” Midge says as she fills the glasses of water. His friends don’t seem terribly happy for him. Maybe they think this is just a temporary thing. That thought is kind of depressing.
Water in hand, she follows Geralt into the hallway. “Good night.”
Geralt just lets out an amused snort. They're all happy for him, they just suck at showing it.
When Midge returns to Jaskier's bedroom, she'll find him wearing the other silk robe and sitting on his desk, humming while writing in his notebook. He's concentrated so he doesn't hear her come in.
Midge smiles at the sight of Jaskier sitting at his desk. She places the glasses of water on it, then wraps her arms around him from behind and leans down to kiss his temple.
Jaskier's startled by the sudden touch but it only lasts a second - he quickly relaxes into her hug and leans back to kiss her cheek. Her hand, however, closes the notebook. He doesn't like it when people look at his unfinished writing.
"Trying to find a way to describe your tits in a way that makes their beauty justice."
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"Humming won't cover the smell," he tells her. It's only half a joke.
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She edges past Geralt and gets two cups to fill with water. Midge happens to get a look at herself in the mirror: her hair is messy and her lipstick is smudged. Not thoroughly fucked yet, but on the way to it.
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"You're turning into him," he says. Or maybe she always was and that's why they get along. Who the fuck knows. "I'll be in my fucking grave and still smell his cum." He shakes his head. "Good night."
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“Oh, just be happy for him,” Midge says as she fills the glasses of water. His friends don’t seem terribly happy for him. Maybe they think this is just a temporary thing. That thought is kind of depressing.
Water in hand, she follows Geralt into the hallway. “Good night.”
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When Midge returns to Jaskier's bedroom, she'll find him wearing the other silk robe and sitting on his desk, humming while writing in his notebook. He's concentrated so he doesn't hear her come in.
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“Whatcha working on?”
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"Trying to find a way to describe your tits in a way that makes their beauty justice."
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“Hmmmm… I guess it depends on what you’re writing. Is it a song? A poem? A racy novel?”